


Hello, Dream

by HobblyWobbly



Category: DreamSMP, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Angry Wilbur Soot, Protective Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Resurrected Wilbur Soot, Villain Clay | Dream (Video Blogging RPF), angst..?, thats it thats the fic, wilbur beats up dream
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:15:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29533248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HobblyWobbly/pseuds/HobblyWobbly
Summary: The mask Dream always wore is nowhere to be found leaving his face barren for all to see. It feels illegal to see his facial expressions. The way his dull green eyes drag themselves up and how he pursues his chapped lips. He tilts his head in a silent greeting.Wilbur scoffs, stuffing his hands into his trenchcoat pockets. “Not gonna greet an old ally? You hurt me.”A recently revived Wilbur pays Dream a visit in prison.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Wilbur Soot
Comments: 16
Kudos: 226





	Hello, Dream

“Hello, Dream.”

The man he had once fought a war against for freedom sits on encased in obsidian with his head on the wall. Surrounded by four obsidian-lined walls, there was nothing else to do but stare at them. Trace the purple jagged lines of the crying obsidian placed as a precaution. Listen to the mind-numbing ticking of the clock that is incredibly off accuracy. 

Barely touched books thrown about the room. Anything to pass time, slowly going mad, theorizing about what could be going on outside these four walls. There is no bed, no window to bring in the fresh air, only a hole dug in the corner filled to the brim with water.

Wilbur isn’t jealous in the slightest. He’s rather glad the prison hadn’t been around when he snapped the cord, or else he would’ve found himself in a similar predicament.

The mask Dream always wore is nowhere to be found leaving his face barren for all to see. It feels illegal to see his facial expressions. The way his dull green eyes drag themselves up and how he pursues his chapped lips. He tilts his head in a silent greeting. 

Wilbur scoffs, stuffing his hands into his trenchcoat pockets. “Not gonna greet an old ally? You hurt me.”

Wilbur watches Dream pick up one of his many books.

In scribbled, jacked lines a response is written out and held for Wilbur to see. “Taken a vow of silence? Huh, odd. I never took you for one to shut up. Thought we had that in common.” He strolls about the small cell. Burn scarred hand tracing the obsidian wall. His fingers come away clean. Lava drips ominously behind him painting the cell in hues of oranges and reds.

Dream’s eyes track his every movement. He looks pathetic like this. Sat in his own filth left to waste away for the evil he’s done. But Wilbur knows Dream has a plan. He is intimately familiar with the glint hidden in the depths of his eyes. Telling of catastrophic reckoning to come.

“I heard you took part in my resurrection. Some book that Schlatt gave you back during Manburg. Bet you planned on using that to cheat death, huh? A shame your own god complex got in the way,” Wilbur crouches in front of Dream. He grins, twisted and crooked in ways only a man who has seen hell can. “I heard about your little evil lair. And I thought I was the crazy one! You led a war against a sixteen-year-old. And lost! See, Dream, that’s the difference between us.” 

He leans in. Never breaking eye contact. “I won. You didn’t.”

Wilbur stands adjusting his coat once more. Dream’s head tilts back to follow him. No reaction. That’s fine. Everybody’s a critic, after all. He picks under his nails that have been chewed down to the bud, the skin raw and irritated. It helps him feel alive. Wilbur doubts he’ll ever get used to feeling pain again. Feeling _anything_ , really. He had become one with the void. It had been so quiet there. No longer haunted by his symphony and able to float along for eternity.

That is until he had rudely been ripped back into the world of the living.

“That’s all I had. I should get going- Tommy is having a grand opening for his new hotel. That’s one thing the afterlife didn’t have; parties.” He turns, boot heels clicking on the floor. And then he stops.

His hand rests on top of the clock- Dream’s only meager possession in this world. Wilbur watches the pendulum swing back and forth. It reflects in his eyes, the ticking entering his brain and never leaving.

“Oh, just one little thing.”

A pained shout echoes in the cell. Dream tips over clutching his now bleeding head, the clock clattering onto the ground, blood staining the once pure obsidian. Wilbur whistles a tune as he walks over. “I heard what you did to Tommy.” Before Dream can collect himself, Wilbur kicks Dream’s shoulder sending him flying into the wall.

“SHIT-“

“There goes the vow of silence,” He stomps his foot onto Dream’s chest. “Did you really think I’d let you get away for what you did to my baby brother? The scars you left on him? How you built this fucking prison for him?!”

Through bloody teeth, Dream sneers. “He fucking started it-”

“Oh, throwing the blame now! Really, Dream, I thought you more mature than this,” Wilbur tuts. He grabs Dream by the collar forcing him onto his feet. “I bet you thought you had the entire world at your feet once I was dead. No one to protect Tommy or Tubbo from your twisted little games. Keeping that book around was your biggest mistake.”

The sound of his fist colliding with Dream’s cheek is the most satisfying sound he’s heard. Well, second to a TNT explosion.

“You see, Dream, I’m not the same person I was before. I’ve accepted that I’m the villain. So I wonder where that leaves you? Guess we’ll find out together.”

His knuckles crack when they swing again. And again. And again. Red fills his vision. When his arms grow tired, he takes to kicking. By the time he’s finished, Dream was now as revolting as he should be. Finally, the outside reflects the man within. Wilbur flexes his hands eyeing the busted-open knuckles.

He eyes the limp body before him.

“I’ll be visiting you again, don’t you worry. Next time, it’s gonna be for Tubbo.”

Leaving bloody footprints on the obsidian, Wilbur steps into the hole feeling water splash against his legs. He never takes his eyes off Dream even when the potion of harming shatters against his head, the magic taking effect immediately. 

Sam is waiting for Wilbur on the other side. He had to have heard everything, but he says nothing. His green eyes are steely. Wilbur cracks his neck climbing off the bed. His hands have now healed leaving no indication of the previous events from ever occurring.

“Ready to go?” Sam’s hand rests over the lever. Wilbur hums glancing one last time at the prison cell.

_[Dream was slain by Wilbur Soot]_

“Yeah, I’m good to go. Hey, how long was the time between visits again?”

**Author's Note:**

> just wait until wilbur hears what dreams done to ranboo whoops time to lose that 3rd canon life
> 
> ~~Also according to Ao3 statistics, only a small percentage of people reading this fic actually comment/leave kudos. Please do. It's free and I highly appreciate it.~~
> 
> Feel free to check out my Twitter! I post hcs, make theories, and rt a lot of art!  
> [Twitter](https://twitter.com/H0bblyW0bbly)


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